


A Deal with a Devil, and a Demon's Kiss

by EmpressMermalaid



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Demons, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jesse McCree, Deal with a Devil, Demon Deals, Demon Sex, Demons, Fingerfucking, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, Intimacy, M/M, Monsters, Oral Sex, Pool Table Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, Supernatural Elements, Top Hanzo Shimada, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-07 07:42:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11619057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmpressMermalaid/pseuds/EmpressMermalaid
Summary: A cowboy in a ghost town is a straight cliché but long after the people cleared out of Deadlock Gorge, whispers on the wind say a mysterious being has taken up residence there. They say if you can offer the Devil the right tribute, then it can give you whatever your heart desires...McCree is willing to risk it all and do whatever is asked of him to win his prize, but when has anything ever been that simple...





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my pretties! I'm sick in bed with the dreaded post-convention plague, but that's left me plenty of time to get in on some top tier smut. I hope you enjoy!

A cowboy in a ghost town. It was something straight out of a cliché – a night sky like a smear of tar lit up by a silver bauble of a moon, casting long, cold shadows of derelict buildings on the wispy desert sand. Rusted door hinges creaked as a gentle breeze rolled through the street, stirring the serape of a lone figure. His footfalls barely stirred the dust beneath his boots and yet in the absence of all other noise, they sounded as loud as gunshots, spurs jangling ominously in time with his steps. A billboard, half wrenched from its mantle, read _Welcome to Deadlock Gorge_.

The man's name was Jesse McCree, and he was on a mission. Rumours had caught his ear, blown in on the wind, that ever since the people had cleared out of Deadlock Gorge, something different, more mysterious had taken up residence there. In the local tongue, some had called it an angel. Others had named it the Devil himself. Everybody seemed to agree – the _thing_ had abilities. Powers beyond understanding. They say the creature could reach inside you, take grip of your very soul, and give you the one thing your true heart desired.

Jesse McCree was a wanderer. A lost and lawless vagabond. He had come close to his moments of glory, but never quite managed to snatch them from the jaws of defeat. He was talented, that much was undeniable. The bounty on his head alone could attest to just how far his notoriety spread. The man who could kill ten men with six bullets. A sharpshooter with an unrivalled gift. He might have been the most infamous outlaw between here and the border, but that sort of praise felt empty. Shallow. The one thing he truly yearned for was a _purpose_. A _calling_. He had been put on this Earth for a reason, he had been given his talents to be _used_ , and he was determined to find out just what that reason was. If he had to enlist the help of some supernatural spooks to do it, well, so be it.

His eyes swept the landscape, looking for any signs of life or habitation. It looked as though he was the first to set foot in this place in a decade. Moth-eaten lace curtains fluttered in front of yellowed glass windows, the dust settling into every crack and chip until the jagged teeth of glass were nearly smooth. Inside every building were remnants of the past. Upturned chairs, tipped glasses and strewn books across the floor, as though the inhabitants of this town had all left in a hurry. In one house he found a refrigerator, stocked to the brim with now rotten and diseased produce, all abandoned in the occupant's haste to depart.

He found the Devil sitting at a bar. It was ironic, really. He had always tried running from his demons through the bottom of a bottle in these sorts of joints, and now he was going out of his way to find one. His back was turned to McCree but even in the dim light of a single candle on the bar, McCree could tell he was not of this world. His skin was an inky midnight blue, and the tattoo winding its way up his arm glowed faintly. McCree had no doubts that the Devil heard him the moment he entered the bar, but it took him a few moments to glance over his shoulder. His eyes were shocking white streaks in the dark, devoid of pupils and chilling McCree to the bone the moment their eyes met. Casually, he took a sip of his drink – a ghostly, misted shot glass of something vile and green.

“A visitor,” the Demon announced lightly, his voice a musical, inviting lilt. He swirled his glass between clawed fingers, and the liquid moved in unnatural waves within.

Wordlessly, McCree took a seat beside him. His one human hand shook slightly, but he covered it with the metal hand he had been given many years ago – the byproduct of a long, long story. The Devil placed his glass on the bar and slid it towards McCree. Another glass, completely identical in every way, remained in it's original position like a carbon copy. Now there were two.

The Devil side-eyed the gun holster at McCree's belt.

“Have you come to slay me?” he asked.

“No,” McCree swallowed thickly, debating on whether it was better or worse to accept the offer of a drink from a spiritual entity of unknown morality. He was certainly no angel, that much wascertain. Horns protruded from his forehead and when he spoke, McCree noticed the faint glimmer of fangs behind his lips.

“Surely you didn't come all this way for a drink,” the Devil smiled, “though the company is nice.”

McCree gulped. He was parched dry. Fumbling slightly, he picked up the glass before him and drank – intuition was telling him it was the right thing to do. He was rewarded with a wry smirk from the Devil as the liquid touched his lips – somehow both ice cold and scorching like a bonfire made liquid. He coughed, a prickle of tears springing to life on his lashes.

“I heard...” McCree chewed his tongue, placing the glass down, “I heard y' be grantin' wishes and whatnot.”

“- _and whatnot_ ,” the Devil parroted, amused, “I'm no genie, if that's what you're after.”

“But you do got... _abilities_?”

The Devil contemplated his words.

“I do.”

There was a pregnant pause, which McCree filled by letting more of the sickening drink trickle past his lips. After the initial shock of the sensation on his tongue, it wasn't half bad. He'd definitely tasted worse in better bars than this even if it did taste the way cheap linoleum cleaner smelled.

“What did you come to... _wish_... for?”

There was something in the way he said it that made McCree uneasy. It couldn't be that straight-forward. Every rumour said he'd pay a price – a terrible price – just to get a chance to beg the being for even a morsel of a chance to have his true heart's desire granted. Stroll up, have an idle chat over drinks – it wasn't supposed to be this simple.

“I... wanna be given a purpose. A reason to exist, y'know? I got all this talent and people done always tellin' me I got a gift and I should be usin' it somehow. I thought as time went on that I'd just stumble into findin' that reason for my whole bein' here but I never did. My bounty grows by the day and I ain't any closer to figurin' all this out.”

The Devil raised his brows, mulling over McCree's response the same way he mulled his glass around and around between his talons. He took a sip and placed the glass down.

“Permit me to clarify. You want me to use my gifts to give you a purpose in life?”

McCree shrugged.

“Or just tell me what the hell it's supposed to be.”

“How... noble.”

“Can you do it?”

The Devil regarded him coolly for a moment, turned to face his visitor with a curious expression. He looked McCree up and down, his blank white eyes seemingly looking past his body and taking in something deeper, something intangible.

“I can.”

Jubilant in a rare moment of victory, McCree tossed down the rest of his drink but when he slammed it back to the table it was as full as when he had begun.

“So what do I gotta do then? Kill somebody? Bring y' their pinkie finger?”

The Devil cocked his head.

“Nothing of the sort,” he said swiftly, catching McCree's eyes and holding them captive in his gaze for longer than what should have been comfortable. They were hypnotic. McCree couldn't look away.

“W-... well... what then?”

The Devil's lips curled.

“Why don't you start by telling me your name, cowboy?”

McCree blinked.

“Jesse McCree.”

The Devil extended his hand to McCree.

“Hanzo.”

McCree stared at his hand. His heart was hammering so loudly in his ribs he thought it might burst from his chest and splat against the Devil's outstretched palm. Sweating, he grasped the Devil's talons in a firm handshake and immediately, a painful burning seared to life across the back of his palm. He yelped in pain, withdrawing his hand like he had been stung. Grasping his wrist gingerly in his metal hand, he watched in horror as a mark, pitch black and throbbing, flourished to life across his skin. It took up the entire back of his hand, with a few tendrils snaking down to encircle his fingers like iron rings, twisted and ornate. Panting, McCree tried desperately to scrub the mark clean but it wasn't ink or paint – it was under his skin itself, a beautiful but terrifying mandala of carefully carved sigils and runes.

“What are you doing?” McCree shouted, the bar stool clattering to the floor as he quickly stood, tripping over his own feet.

“Granting you your wish.” The Devil – _Hanzo_ – also stood. “Now let's begin.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that you can see more of my shit in the following places:
> 
> [Twitter](twitter.com/ladymermalaid)  
> [Tumblr (main)](ladymermalaid.tumblr.com)  
> [Tumblr (porny side blog)](empressmermalaid.tumblr.com)
> 
> Are you enjoying this fic? Chuck me a comment (even if it's just a single, solitary grunt) and you will fill me with such pride and vanity and appreciation I will have no choice but to write more and update more regularly to soak up more of that sweet, sweet recognition. It's that simple!


	2. Chapter 2

McCree backed away as Hanzo stalked closer. His hand still smarted; his heart was racing so fast he thought he might collapse from light headedness. His eyes were wide, yet Hanzo seemed unshaken.

“What are you doing?” McCree stammered, his spurs jangling as he tripped backwards.

“You asked me to give you what your heart desires. I shall do so. But first, I will take my payment.”

“P-payment?” McCree squeaked as Hanzo descended upon him. He winced, face screwed up tight as though expecting a knife in the gut at any second. But instead, warm hands took his wrists, pulling him into a gentle embrace, soft and strong at the same time. A finger under his chin and Hanzo lifted McCree's face to meet his, drinking him up like the stagnant liquor they had partaken of. McCree blinked in bewilderment.

“I prefer my payments to be paid in... _flesh_...” Hanzo said, his eyes now lidded and rimmed dark with shadows, his tongue darting from between his lips to swipe across his teeth.

“Flesh?” McCree gulped.

“Oh yes,” Hanzo purred, leaning in closer, his nose now pressed against the column of McCree's neck, “unless you feel this is too difficult a task in exchange for everything you ever wanted.”

It was no secret what Hanzo intended. Demonic claws traced idle patterns over McCree's jean-clad thighs, and he was finding it increasingly difficult to think of any reason that he should object. There was something butting his mind... what _was_ it he was drinking earlier? Or maybe it was something to do with Hanzo's eyes – especially this close. They seemed like swirling, iridescent pearls of light casting their own faint glow in the dark. They were inhuman, impossible and wildly captivating.

“Take what you want,” McCree said in a voice more breathless than intended.

Hanzo grinned. He whipped them around in the blink of an eye and with a single, sharp shove, McCree found his back pressed to the bar. He let out a small, surprised gasp. Taken by the moment, he leaned in to where Hanzo's face hovered mere inches from his, mesmerising and hypnotic in every way. His lips barely brushed the shell of Hanzo's own before Hanzo pulled away, tutting.

“I'll do whatever you want,” McCree crooned softly, pulling away from the bar, but two firm, masculine hands had him pinned tight. Hanzo was pushing him further and further down until McCree's back was firmly laid across the counter, one leg finding support against a stool and the other against Hanzo's hip, Hanzo nestled comfortably between them. He caressed McCree's crotch with his fingertips, seeking permission, and McCree was taken aback by how few inhibitions he had about indulging a stranger he'd just met – and a demon at that. He swiftly unbuckled his belt, letting it clatter to the floor and unzipping his jeans before the gaudy buckle had even hit the dust.

Hanzo pried apart McCree's fly with inquiring fingers. McCree felt like all the air had been knocked out of him as his pants and underwear were slowly dragged down his thighs, leaving him painfully exposed. A wispy garden of dark, coarse hair trailed down from his navel to his crotch where his dick lay half-hard against his thigh. Hanzo gave it one long, slow, deliberate stroke with his finger, delighting in the way it made McCree shiver.

“S-so...” McCree sat up against his elbows, looking down the line of his torso to where Hanzo was standing between his knees, “how do you want to... _y'know_... do this?”

“The only way men like us know how,” Hanzo smirked, never missing a beat. He wrapped a long-taloned hand around McCree's soft cock and gave it a squeeze.

“Straight to the point, eh?” McCree teased gently, a winded whistle to his voice. His chest rose and fell rapidly as Hanzo flashed him with a wicked grin.

“It's been so long...” Hanzo murmured, voice like smoke and gravel as he sank down between McCree's legs “... since I have tasted human flesh. Too long. Much too long.”

With that, his tongue darted from between his fanged teeth. McCree noticed it was tapered, pointed at the end, and slightly longer than one would expect. With the very tip he flickered his tongue against the head of McCree's cock, still grasped between his fingers, not unlike like a snake tasting the air for danger. It sent a pulse of fire shooting up McCree's spine and he squirmed, his length growing harder by the second with just the lightest of teasing. This seemed to please Hanzo. He toyed with the tip, dipping and flirting around the head with his tongue, offering McCree only the lightest of strokes with his hand until he was satisfied with its size. Thick and throbbing, McCree's cock strained after Hanzo's touch with every involuntary jerk of his hips. Any and all words were lost on his lips as only soft, gentle gasps escaped.

McCree watched in awe as Hanzo stood up straight, licking his lips salaciously as one would after indulging in a fine meal. His hand remained wrapped around McCree's shaft, his stroking becoming more refined and purposeful. McCree could hardly wrench his eyes away from those silken, midnight blue fingers caressing his swollen cock but when he did he was rewarded with a sight that made his heart flutter just like the butterflies in his stomach. Hanzo, stripping out of his archaic garb with his free hand, deliberate in his leisurely and languid pace. McCree watched the fabric fall from his shoulders and inhaled sharply. The flesh beneath was the same inky colour as the rest of him, but there was something more, something _erotic_ about the way the fabric bunched at his belt while his chest – toned and defined like a marble sculpture – glistened in the moonlight streaming through my butted windows.

Wordlessly, Hanzo lowered his head to McCree's lap and slid his lips around McCree's cock. McCree exhaled through his teeth, intrusive flashes of Hanzo's fangs running through his mind, but the ministrations around his length were nothing but hot and wet and tight. He shuddered. Some of Hanzo's hair, as sleek and black as the sky outside, had fallen from the neat ponytail he had tied at the nape of his neck and was tickling against McCree's thighs as he swallowed more of McCree's girth. McCree could feel his head being squeezed tighter and tighter as it travelled further and further down Hanzo's throat until his lips were flush with McCree's body. He whimpered. Hanzo's throat constricted a little tighter, his tongue snaking around every curve and ridge, truly enveloping McCree's dick with every inch of his mouth. After a moment, his mouth opened wider and his tongue, wily and pink against his dark lips, coiled out past where McCree's cock sat heavy on his lower lip to curl its way further down his flesh, massaging his balls with impossible reach and dexterity. McCree's eyes widened, but his body reacted like an instrument being played by a master; bucking straight up into Hanzo's mouth, as hot blooded as a needy virgin.

He twitched, and he could feel his climax was close already. Just a few strokes and a quick deepthroat and he was ready to blow – he'd have been ashamed if he wasn't so turned on. Hanzo seemed to sense this and pulled away. Thick strings of pre-cum slick saliva trickled from his lips and fangs as he held his mouth open as he pulled away, pooling in McCree's lap and soaking his cock with ribbons of drool. It slicked up Hanzo's hand, making audible, licentious sounds as he continued to jerk McCree off as slow and firm as he pleased.

“I forgot how... intoxicating...” Hanzo sighed breathlessly, reverently, as he pressed his face against the inside of McCree's thigh. He inhaled deeply, eyes fluttered closed, exhaling exuberantly as though relishing a fine wine. His hand slipped away, wiping pre-cum and saliva across McCree's stubbled thighs as McCree whined in protest. Hanzo did not seem to notice. He was too absorbed in his own moment, licking the inside of McCree's thigh in a gesture that was more lewd than it had any business to be, followed by a dangerous little nip of his teeth. His eyes flashed up at McCree from between his legs, gauging his reaction and delighting in the way McCree was torn between melting completely and jerking on edge with the threat of being bitten. His cock twitched between them with excitement all the same.

“Now...” Hanzo drawled softly, standing to his full height and tracing elegant patterns up McCree's chest with his fingers. McCree was mesmerised. Hanzo circled his way around to the other side of the bar, letting McCree's eyes follow him naturally until McCree was lying flat on his back against the wooden counter top once more. He was looking up at Hanzo, upside down from this angle. Perfect. Hanzo's delicate touch slipped up over his chest, dragging his shirt with it and revealing pert, pink nipples to the cold night air. He gave them a quick flick, making McCree growl with desire. His hands then traced up further, to McCree's neck. He couldn't help himself. He caressed the column of McCree's throat, so broad and tanned and peppered with bristled beard hair... so unlike his own unnatural skin, as smooth as scales. McCree's eyelids fluttered as Hanzo applied the barest suggestion of pressure to his windpipe, and Hanzo felt something stir within him.

He pulled aside his clothes, letting his own arousal swing free of its confines. McCree could not draw his eyes away. Hanzo's cock was the same colour as the rest of him, perfect in every way. Thick, long, and so, _so_ hard for him. McCree let Hanzo tilt his head back, guided by the fingers around his throat, massaging him with a firm but careful pressure, eagerly anticipating what was to come. He parted his lips slightly, wetting them with his tongue.

“...your turn.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that you can see more of my shit in the following places:
> 
> [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/ladymermalaid)  
> [Tumblr (main)](http://www.ladymermalaid.tumblr.com)  
> [Tumblr (porny side blog)](http://www.empressmermalaid.tumblr.com)
> 
> Are you enjoying this fic? Chuck me a comment (even if it's just a single, solitary grunt) and you will fill me with such pride and vanity and appreciation I will have no choice but to write more and update more regularly to soak up more of that sweet, sweet recognition. It's that simple!


	3. Chapter 3

Hanzo sucked his lower lip between his teeth, the points of his fangs boring into the flesh just shy of breaking skin. He watched, transfixed, as McCree's lips parted compliantly around his cock and more of his length disappeared inside the cowboy's eager throat. He could feel McCree's throat muscles expand around the intrusion from beneath his hand where it was still molded to the shape of his neck. Reflexively he tightened his grip. McCree made a sound somewhat like a choked whimper and brought his own hands up to grasp at Hanzo's forearm, his nails biting into the skin, though he made no move to try and pry Hanzo away. If anything, he was grounding himself to Hanzo, clinging to him as Hanzo pushed more of himself between his lips. His eyes had long since slid closed as though he was savouring the moment as much as Hanzo was.

It had been a long time since Hanzo had indulged in the pleasures of the flesh, least of all with a human. He had always found that there was something inately endearing about their collective willingness to search and experiment outside of their familiar comfort zones, but Jesse McCree was an exceptional case. He had not once recoiled in fear at Hanzo's appearance, nor asked trite questions about things like his horns or eyes or tattoos. It was almost like he hadn't even noticed them. Hanzo had decided in that moment that McCree was either marvellously dense, or inclined to less than conventional acquired tastes...

McCree made a sweet simpering sound as he explored Hanzo's cock in his mouth. His tongue traced the entire length, dipping into the tip and tasting him there. It was salty, musky, with a flourish of something intangible, indescribable. The scent of his arousal was intoxicating, heady, an Earthy smell of spice and sweat. It filled McCree from his nostrils to his tongue as he drank more of Hanzo's precum, salted and slick, cock throbbing between his lips as he strained his head back, inviting more – inviting as much as Hanzo could give him. The hand on his throat - the pressure there - it drove him mad. It was dangerous; he could feel the pointed peaks of Hanzo's claws graze his skin whenever he moved, so close to piercing him, so close to marking him. It was dangerous, but it was exhilarating.

Hanzo's hips rolled as McCree began to suck. He thrust into the cowboy's keen mouth, feeling nothing but a thick sluice of drool soaking his girth and soft, restless lips working his shaft. An involuntary moan escaped him as a whispered exhale, a huff of satisfaction barely audible over the sounds of McCree noisily gasping for air. He pulled away from Hanzo as infrequently as he could to gulp down a rattled, hasty breath before doubling his efforts to pleasure the demon. Hanzo caressed his neck whenever he surfaced to breathe, gentle and light, so that he would not be limited by a forceful grip around his throat and for that, McCree was thankful. Hanzo noticed McCree shiver with delight wherever he was touched, and for the first time noticed that McCree's own erection was still rock hard and flushed against his stomach.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that you can see more of my shit in the following places:
> 
> [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/ladymermalaid)  
> [Tumblr (main)](http://www.ladymermalaid.tumblr.com)  
> [Tumblr (porny side blog)](http://www.empressmermalaid.tumblr.com)
> 
> Are you enjoying this fic? Chuck me a comment (even if it's just a single, solitary grunt) and you will fill me with such pride and vanity and appreciation I will have no choice but to write more and update more regularly to soak up more of that sweet, sweet recognition. It's that simple!


	4. Chapter 4

“ _Problem?”_

Hanzo blinked, shaken from the light reverie he had entered, staring at the feast laid across the bar for him. Tousled and wild, the cowboy was everything Hanzo loved about humanity. Raw. Wanton. Brazen. His skin a sweet, sun-kissed caramel, the sharp marriage of tan lines where milky olive met dark freckles around his hips and collarbones an erotic duality. McCree was kissing the underside of Hanzo's cock, his pink lips another beautiful contrast to the deep midnight blue of his own skin. His lips shaped themselves to the crook of Hanzo's shaft, suckling softly at the place where he curved slightly. When McCree spoke, it was with a honeyed drawl, dry and raspy from the fruits of his labour – deepthroating Hanzo with ease.

“No,” Hanzo replied softly, truthfully, shaking his head as his bangs brushed his cheeks, “you are... irresistable.”

McCree paused, eyebrow cocked. He pressed a single, almost shy kiss against the tip of Hanzo's length and withdrew with wet lips shining in the flickering candlelight. He sat up.

“Have I said something... wrong..?” Hanzo took the slightest step away as McCree righted himself on the bar, now vertical and facing him.

“Not at all,” McCree said, a breathless warmth colouring his voice. Hanzo searched his face but saw no trace of a lie. McCree truly was eager to give himself to the rogue demon. He sat before Hanzo, flushed and full-lipped, almost bashful in his nudity now that the course of their intimacy sat on a precipice of uncertainty.

“Would you do more with me?” McCree asked, fidgeting with his own fingers, tracing the new black mark on his hands, though he was quite unable to drag his eyes completely away from Hanzo. There was an almost dusted pink blush painted across the devil's skin; though it was hard to tell in the dark, it seemed to show as a charming mauve with his skin. The question took Hanzo by surprise. Here he had thought he might have to beg, bribe or otherwise blackmail McCree to continue if he was getting cold feet. He clearly misunderstood the atmosphere in the room.

“... more?” Hanzo echoed.

“Like...” McCree bit his lip, rolling it between his teeth, and Hanzo couldn't help but inhale sharply at the simple, somehow obscene gesture, “... fuck me?”

If Hanzo had felt robbed of air before, he felt positively asphyxiated now. He didn't overthink it, he just acted. He took a step forward, placing himself firmly in McCree's personal space and gently, tenderly, pressed the pad of his thumb against McCree's lips. Those cursed lips. They stirred things inside of Hanzo he had never known was there. McCree pushed into the touch, cheek to Hanzo's fingers, kissing his thumb with a delicate, deliberate slowness. Not at all like the salacious movements he had performed on Hanzo's gorgeous cock, this was something different. Intimate in a different way. It was permission. A request.

“I would be delighted to take you...” Hanzo breathed into the inch of air between them. McCree's chest hitched.

McCree looked between them as Hanzo reached back over the bar to grab one of the discarded shot glasses of green libation. Silently he poured a few drops into McCree's palm. The liquid, once a scorching alcohol, now seemed to have the properties of a thin oil, shimmering on his palm with a pleasant scent to match. Magic.

“I... you require preparation...” Hanzo said quietly, a pained frown on his face. McCree followed his line of sight to where Hanzo flexed his fingers between them. Long, aristocratic fingers... tipped with sharp, terrifying talons. _Oh_.

“Let me,” McCree said hastily, wrapping his own hands around Hanzo's palm reassuringly.

“I'm sorry.”

McCree took Hanzo's hand and pressed it against the tight muscle of his lower stomach. Hanzo's eyes were downcast to the floor but he peered up from beneath a heavy fan of lashes to watch McCree curiously.

“Plenty of things you can still do,” McCree responded huskily, giving an encouraging lift of his hips which shifted Hanzo's hand lower. A smile tweaked at the corners of Hanzo's lips.

McCree tentatively dipped his fingers in the oil, giving it a sniff. Though the same colour as the drink, and indeed from the same glass, it did not seem to be the same thing any more. He remembered how it had tasted, foreign and alien on his tongue – the thought of _that_ inside of him stirred an unease in his belly.

“It is... _safe_...” Hanzo assured him, still sheepish about his inability to properly help McCree prepare himself and doubly bashful about McCree's unshaken, shameless acceptance of his differences.

McCree gave him a rough, lopsided grin.

“I trust you,” he licked his lips and poured a generous amount over his fingers.

He slid his hand down between his legs, eyes slipping closed as though in concentration, a flutter of his brows an expression of pleasure, or perhaps pain. Hanzo tried to ease the burden. He gave McCree's length a squeeze, stroking him in long, slow motions. McCree's size was not too different from his own, but Hanzo relished in every difference – the softness of his human skin, the way his skin flushed darker with his arousal. The movement made McCree's face relax.

A single, shuddered _'oh fuck'_ was the only accompaniment to McCree's fingers pressing past the resistance. A single digit at first. It slid in easier than expected. McCree could pin it to his arousal, but he had his suspicions about the magically changing, otherworldly lubricant he had been provided. Perhaps Hanzo had done more to help than he let on. There was nearly no pain, and a warm, pleasant tingle spread from the bottom of McCree's spine to his scalp, making him moan softly. He spread his thighs wider, arcing his hips closer to the edge of the bar so that he might work his finger in deeper already. A second digit, almost immediately. His stomach rippled as muscles tightened and relaxed, a hot, inebriated breath on his lips.

“How do you feel?” Hanzo asked, as he took a few drops of oil in his own palm, making the slow strokes of his wrist a special kind of wonderful, drawn out torture.

“G-good...” was all McCree could manage.

He was three fingers in, thrusting them in and out, deeper every time, until his knees began to shake. Inside, he felt his fingers massage so much oil against his walls he could feel some drip out, pooling against the edge of the bar. He felt only the slightest tinge of embarrassment as an especially powerful contraction deep in his belly also spilled a thick stream of precum over Hanzo's wet, glistening fingers. Hanzo brought the offering to his own mouth, taking long, savouring licks of his knuckles until they were clean. His eyes, aglow with mischief and ringed with dark shadows of desire bore deep into McCree's, their gazes locked, each enjoying the other's performance. McCree was unable to keep silent now. Whimpers and gasps bubbled up from his chest, though he seemed reluctant to be loud.

“Promise me something,” Hanzo spoke, his voice cutting through the lovely sounds of McCree cursing softly under his breath.

McCree made a quizzical sound of agreement. His head was tipped back now, and he moved his whole body, bucking into Hanzo's grip as he fucked himself down onto his own fingers.

“When I fuck you, let me hear you. Let me hear you moan. Let me hear your cries. I will promise you nothing but pleasure so long as you permit me to enjoy the sweet sound of your lust.”

McCree tensed as though suddenly made of stone. Then, with a whimpering sob like music to Hanzo's ears, he came.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that you can see more of my shit in the following places:
> 
> [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/ladymermalaid)  
> [Tumblr (main)](http://www.ladymermalaid.tumblr.com)  
> [Tumblr (porny side blog)](http://www.empressmermalaid.tumblr.com)
> 
> Are you enjoying this fic? Chuck me a comment (even if it's just a single, solitary grunt) and you will fill me with such pride and vanity and appreciation I will have no choice but to write more and update more regularly to soak up more of that sweet, sweet recognition. It's that simple!


	5. Chapter 5

Hanzo descended on McCree like a moth to a flame. His long tongue, slightly rough like a cat's, curled around his own fingers and McCree's length in one motion, drinking the thin ribbons of cum coating his skin. McCree was still twitching in Hanzo's fingers, pulsing and rigid, gasping for air as though the breath had been knocked from his lungs at full force. Hanzo's eyes, piercing in the dark, could not pull themselves away from McCree's beautiful form, flushed and muscular, ripples beneath his skin making him jerk as Hanzo lathed at his sensitive flesh.

“ _Exquisite_ ,” Hanzo moaned softly, his lips dripping with McCree's essence. He licked them, savouring the taste, cleaning McCree with eager fingers and mouth until he was groomed dry. McCree simply whimpered, biting down on a knuckle as Hanzo's ministrations turned his bones to jelly and his mind to mush.

Hanzo loomed over him, chest to chest, wrapping his arms around McCree, hands nestled in the small of his back as though he might hoist McCree away from the bar. That is exactly what he intended to do, McCree realised with a start, as Hanzo nudged him indicatively with his shoulder. McCree was hesitant. He was no small man; nobody had ever picked him up before. Granted, nobody had ever tried. Hanzo seemed insistent, so McCree complied, weakly looping his arms behind Hanzo's head and holding fast.

Hanzo lifted him with no difficulty whatsoever; McCree may as well have weighed the same as a feather to the demon. McCree felt a flutter in his stomach, whether it was from arousal at the display of sheer strength, or from nerves of being dropped, he wasn't sure. Perhaps it was both. Hanzo's face wasn't strained in the slightest. McCree had a very close, intimate view of every feature of the Devil's lovely expression as their faces hovered mere inches from one another. The curve of his lips. The brush of dark lashes across his eyes. The fascinating horns growing from his forehead. He was mesmerising.

Hanzo carefully carried him backwards, holding him close, until McCree's back hit the wall. They stared into each other's eyes for just a moment, just a single breath in which they couldn't bring themselves to speak, even if they wanted to. And then McCree shivered. The tip of Hanzo's cock brushed against his ass, stretched and slick from his fingers. McCree's hands curled into fists at the nape of the demon's neck, steeling himself for what was to come next, his breath held tight in his chest.

Hanzo lowered McCree slightly, the cowboy helping a little by angling his hips and back away from the wall until just his shoulders dug into the ancient plaster, rough and scratching against his skin. Hanzo's rigid length was pressed right against his entrance now. McCree parted all too willingly to the intrusion, his preparation creating a warm, welcoming embrace to which Hanzo was only too impatient to lose himself into. He could feel McCree tighten, right where the head of his cock met McCree's wet skin. Yet he resisted the temptation to plunge into him, just for a second longer. Just so he could watch McCree's face for a second longer. Just one more second...

McCree, impetuous, restless, rolled his hips slightly. He froze, still as a statue, as Hanzo leaned in and pressed an innocent, modest kiss to his lips. The kind of virtuous, undefiled kiss that was heavy with a hundred things that could not work their way into words. He had hungered for something more, something he couldn't properly express and in that very moment his unruly heart felt soothed, contented with nothing more than a kiss. He was left with no doubt in his mind that whatever it was his soul craved, Hanzo would be the one to give it to him. He trusted him, as he would trust someone he had known for a hundred years. Maybe more. He had no doubt in his mind that a kiss from this Devil was a rarity; something had transpired the moment Hanzo's lips touched his own, something intangible, bigger than them both.

Pulling away, Hanzo breathed, the air from his lungs somehow a frosty chill against McCree's overly warm mouth. Then he pushed into McCree, his hips bucking up to meet McCree's and making them both cry out in a soft, surprised pleasure. McCree's back bowed in a lovely arch, the muscles of his stomach contracting tight as his thighs, currently squeezed around Hanzo's midsection, shivered with delight. Hanzo was murmuring something that McCree could neither hear nor in a language he could comprehend, as lost as he was in the waves of gratification flooding him from head to toe. Hanzo's clawed hands were on his hips, keeping him aloft against the wall as Hanzo slowly fucked him deeper, savouring the sweet sensation of McCree's ass milking his cock. McCree cursed, his nails dragging across Hanzo's shoulders and his head tipping back against the wall as he felt himself being filled. Hanzo was buried to the hilt inside of him, stretching him out more than his fingers ever could. It was nearly too much, just on the brink of pain, yet somehow every move Hanzo made was nothing short of sweet relief.

“Will you permit me a... small indulgence?” Hanzo asked, a colouring of breathlessness to his voice.

McCree shimmied his hips in response. Something had begun to take over him, a wild kind of ferocity, hungry for the thrill and satisfaction of release. He smouldered up at Hanzo, his eyes a blazing wildfire, a roguish, lopsided grin pulling at his lips as his teeth flashed white in the candlelight.

“What... this ain't enough for you?” he winked, the mischievousness of his expression going straight to Hanzo's arousal. The nerve of his cheek had Hanzo feeling as though he was being issued a challenge – one he intended to rise to.

“Not nearly enough,” Hanzo replied, dipping forward to mouth at McCree's chest. Quivering, McCree realised Hanzo was supporting him effortlessly with a single hand, driving him against the wall with every thrust that grew harder and harder with each jerk of Hanzo's firm hips. Hanzo's tongue coiled around McCree's nipple, giving it a playful nip of his razor sharp fangs which drew a shuddered breath from McCree. At the same time, his free hand found McCree's, bringing it around to his cheek. Lacing his fingers through McCree's he held fast - a momentary intimacy. Drawing his attention away from turning McCree's nipples to stiff peaks, he spared a moment to admire the pitch black pattern newly formed on McCree's hand.

Wordlessly, he brought McCree's hand to his mouth. He sunk his fang into the tip of McCree's fingertip and McCree gasped – there was no pain whatsoever, though blood blossomed at the puncture and began to stain Hanzo's teeth a watery crimson. More shockingly than that, the black runes suddenly glowed a bright silvery white – the same as Hanzo's otherworldly eyes.

“Do you want me?” Hanzo asked, slowing his hips, burying his cock inside McCree and pushing hard against him.

“O' course,” McCree didn't know whether to stare at Hanzo's eyes or the newly pronounced bioluminescence he seemed to have developed so his heady, lidded eyes slid between them both, the indulgent smile still gracing his lips.

Hanzo licked his teeth, wiping them clean. He slammed McCree against the wall, hard. McCree inhaled sharply, then melted, moaning with a needy intoxication, squeezing Hanzo's hips with his thighs. The motion had jerked the thick head of Hanzo's cock against the sensitive tangle of nerves buried deep inside of him. He whimpered, trying to ride Hanzo harder, but the demon's large hands had him held fast in place.

“ _How badly do you want me?”_ Hanzo purred, face buried against McCree's neck, the whisper of his voice tickling the shell of his ear and making McCree weaker than he already was.

“Hnngh-”

“Tell me,” Hanzo demanded, soft and menacing at the same time, dominating, moving his hands to take either side of McCree's hips. Ready to give him what he wanted most in that very moment. Ready to fuck him until he screamed, just as Hanzo wanted.

“Give it to me,” McCree growled, and Hanzo simply flashed him a wicked grin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that you can see more of my shit in the following places:
> 
> [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/ladymermalaid)  
> [Tumblr (main)](http://www.ladymermalaid.tumblr.com)  
> [Tumblr (porny side blog)](http://www.empressmermalaid.tumblr.com)
> 
> Are you enjoying this fic? Chuck me a comment (even if it's just a single, solitary grunt) and you will fill me with such pride and vanity and appreciation I will have no choice but to write more and update more regularly to soak up more of that sweet, sweet recognition. It's that simple!


	6. Chapter 6

McCree cried out with surprise when his back hit the smooth felt of the old pool table in the corner. Hanzo had lifted him with the same graceful effortlessness as before, and carried him to the corner stacked high with abandoned billiards equipment. McCree simply whimpered, pulling himself up against the leverage of Hanzo's broad shoulders while trying to sink down lower on the demon's thick erection. He was wanton and shameless, panting breathlessly as he flirted with the head of Hanzo's dick, shimmying his ass up and down along the tip of the shaft as Hanzo carried him across the room.

“Oh God...” McCree arched his back, now lain flat on a musty green table top.

As Hanzo moved back in close, McCree hooked a leg up over his shoulder. Hanzo inhaled sharply, breath whistling through his teeth as his eyes hungrily roamed from the plump pout on McCree's lips to the ripple of his abs and down to the flush of his cock; not to mention the dripping, pink flush of his hole, now angled perfectly for Hanzo to slid right in. He did.

His talons tore a deep river across the landscape of the pool table as McCree clenched, drawing more of Hanzo's length deeper in to his body. McCree keened loudly, splayed beautifully beneath the devil. His hair was tousled in soft, brown curls and sweat beaded in the dips of his muscles, wetting the coarse hairs of his chest and arms down flush with his skin. His chest rose and fell like he had just run a marathon.

Hanzo looked down to where they were joined. McCree's thighs were parted around him invitingly, one knee currently dangling from Hanzo's shoulder, stretching his legs wider. He was only a little desperate – rocking his hips back and forth, whining when Hanzo did not immediately throw him down and pound him stupid. Oh _God_ how he wanted that. His cock twitched, oozing a meek little dribble of precum over the sticky mess of his stomach that undulated as he clenched from the sudden spike of arousal. Hanzo appreciated how McCree's ass hugged him, spread wide around his girth as he slowly rolled his hips forward.

“Don't...” McCree panted suddenly, “not after all that... d-don't... go slow on me...”

Hanzo drew his eyes away to McCree's impatient gaze. He smirked – his mouth a little too wide, and a little too full of teeth.

“Slow?” he echoed, a dangerous little purr colouring his voice darkly, “oh, my little pet... I wouldn't dare.”

Hanzo twitched inside of McCree, making them both shiver. Then he began to fuck him – truly fuck him. Wild and unabashedly, like an animal in heat. The change of pace made McCree feel like the bottom of his stomach had given out with a twist, and his heart raced in time with the unrelenting smack of Hanzo's hips against his. Hanzo towered over him, a beast in his prime, snarling possessively from a place deep in his chest.

“Is this better?” Hanzo sneered, though there was still a lusty sweetness to everything he did, “is this what you want? Letting you know that I want you just as much as you want me? That the moment I laid eyes on you I had already begun to think of this moment – when I'd be on top of you, grinding down in to you and making your sweet little human body feel things you could only dream of?”

“Jesus- hell- _Christ_ \- Hanzo-” McCree's body trembled with a full body shudder, the Devil's deliriously saccharine words prickling white hot static down his spine.

The dirty talk seemed to have affected Hanzo just as much, even though it came from his mouth. He doubled over, pressed chest-to-chest against McCree, his head buried in the crook of McCree's neck. McCree could feel the short, sharp breaths whisper down his sweaty shoulders from Hanzo's slack jawed lips. McCree let out a quivering cry as the new angle saw Hanzo plunging deeper into his ass. The leg thrown over Hanzo's shoulder was now pressed between both of their bodies, and McCree didn't remember being so flexible. He couldn't feel an ounce of pain when his body was already flooded with so much pleasure.

Then Hanzo's cock slipped against that one, beautiful, intoxicating little cluster of nerves. Just once. McCree's moans turned to a shout, a wavering keen, unable to hold back the sound as stars splashed across his vision, bright and white and blinding him. Hanzo growled in response. It was hoarse and primal and McCree couldn't take any more – his eyes slid shut, and the sensory deprivation of being temporarily sightless only made the fire of his arousal worse. He could feel _everything._ Hanzo inside of him, splitting him apart from the inside out with a punishing pace that was leaving them both short of breath. The shifting, heavy weight of the demon on top of him, every twitch, every jerk of every muscle as he grew less and less in control of his body. His _scent_ – smoky and masculine and all over McCree.

Hanzo moaned, murmuring a few absent words of pleasure against McCree's skin. One of his hands found McCree's hair and tangled its way between a few locks, gripping tight, pulling at his scalp and making them groan in unison.

“Hnn-hrr...” McCree grunted.

“What?” Hanzo clung to McCree, still driving him into the pool table but he moved so McCree could see his face when he opened his eyes.

“Harder,” McCree heaved quietly.

Hanzo breathed a few unintelligible words on a shaky exhale. He looked pretty like this – up this close. A light crown of sweat plastered a few stray bangs of hair to his face, and his inhuman eyes were slitted so far with pleasure they were nearly closed. His lips were drawn back from his teeth, exposing his fangs like he might devour McCree whole.

The pool table creaked threateningly as Hanzo drove into McCree, fucking his tight hole into a loose, sloppy mess. He pulled McCree's hair suddenly, making the cowboy mewl with humiliating meekness through a hoarse, dry throat. McCree sobbed as Hanzo rode him hard, pushing him to his limit until...

Hanzo stiffened, his weight pressed deep into McCree. A shiver coursed through him and he cursed, in a language McCree recognised this time. It was raw and powerful and with a moan of satisfaction, McCree realised Hanzo had reached his climax. And Hanzo had finished inside of him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that you can see more of my shit in the following places:
> 
> [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/ladymermalaid)  
> [Tumblr (main)](http://www.ladymermalaid.tumblr.com)  
> [Tumblr (porny side blog)](http://www.empressmermalaid.tumblr.com)
> 
> Are you enjoying this fic? Chuck me a comment (even if it's just a single, solitary grunt) and you will fill me with such pride and vanity and appreciation I will have no choice but to write more and update more regularly to soak up more of that sweet, sweet recognition. It's that simple!
> 
> Also, ooh... check those chapter numbers. We're finally drawing to a close of this great, sexy adventure!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it... the final chapter! Hold my hand, and let's dive in!

Hanzo and McCree lay breathless against one another, letting the seconds tick by into minutes, letting the only sound be the soft symphony of their sighs. McCree could still feel all of Hanzo inside of him, now even more so, as the frenetic heat of their fuck began to wane into a smooth, intoxicating after glow. Gently, almost mournfully, Hanzo slipped his soft cock from McCree's tight embrace, followed by a heavy trickle of hot, sticky cum. McCree's hand darted between his legs, a bashful crimson hue fringing his ears as he struggled to look anywhere near the Devil that had so thoroughly claimed him as his own. A pervasive glimmer of embarrassment caressed the back of his mind – McCree could hardly believe he had just done something so bold, something so... _slutty_.

Then there was a loud crack, and the pool table beneath them jerked towards the floor. Hanzo sprang backwards like a cat, agile and flighty while McCree crashed to the ground in an avalanche of splintered wood. He groaned with pain.

“Are you alright?” Hanzo's face hovered above McCree as he tried to wrestle his punch-drunk and exhausted body into an upright sitting position. McCree grunted non-committally. “Okay” was subjective.

Hanzo extended a hand, helping McCree to his feet as he very tenderly and dutifully checked him for injuries. McCree found himself hoisted upwards, while his legs protested wholeheartedly and his knees buckled, sending him face first into Hanzo's firm chest. McCree wheezed. Hanzo supported him, helping him stand with a loving pat on the head. McCree stumbled over to the bar. He was wet, tender, bruised, and had a thick river of cum leaking down the back of his leg. Uncomfortable did not even begin to cover it.

As soon as he was sure McCree was not about to eat dirt again, Hanzo shyly turned a shoulder and began to right his clothes. McCree was so far gone he could only watch, leaning heavily against the bar. Had that really just happened? Hanzo still stood before him, all teeth and terror and yet it felt surreal. Maybe McCree was still dreaming. Lethargically, his eyes slipped away from Hanzo dressing to the runes on the back of his hand, still present and still lit up like a Christmas tree, although the glow _did_ seem a little less intense.

“So what's all this mean?” McCree asked quietly, throat raw and hoarse.

Hanzo turned to look at him, somehow as pristine and unruffled as he was at the beginning of their encounter. He looked McCree up and down, his expression unreadable.

“Get dressed,” he ordered, picking parts of McCree's clothes off of the ground and throwing them to him, “then we talk.”

There was a hard ball of anxiousness sitting in the pit of McCree's stomach, like he had swallowed a stone. He hurriedly threw on his clothes with no real ceremony, trying to clean some of the mess from between his legs with his underwear that he lobbed in the direction of an ancient-looking trash can and combed a hand through his hair. When he was done, he took a seat at the bar, just like he had when he first walked in. Hanzo followed suit, perched on the stool beside him. He reached over and took McCree's hand in his own, and McCree's heart skipped a beat.

“You came to me seeking a purpose, correct?” Hanzo asked in a soft voice.

“That's right,” McCree swallowed thickly, pulse hammering against his ribs.

Hanzo turned his hand over. They both stared at the mark there for a moment, watching it fade out to a striking black.

“They say you can kill ten men with six bullets,” Hanzo said, tracing the curve of the tattoo with his thumb.

“How do you know that?”

“I heard rumours,” Hanzo threw him a shrewd look, eyes twinkling with amusement, “the same kind of rumours brought you to me. The curiosity of humankind has proven to be quite the advertisement.”

McCree processed his words. His head thumped, he felt damp and feverish all over, and was in desperate need of a shower. He had an inkling that now more than ever he should have his wits about him – that Hanzo was milling his words with subtlety and ambiguity.

“Are you tryin' to tell me...” McCree frowned, turning each sentence over and over in his head, “... you _wanted_ me to find you?”

Hanzo smiled.

“You have a gift. A gratuity from a God you've likely never heard of, don't believe in and never will. I heard talk of such a man in my travels, whispers on the wind, all leading me to the desert. To this place. It has some sentimentality to you, doesn't it? I felt the Earth itself sing when you stepped foot back on these grounds.”

McCree opened his mouth. Literally none of this made sense to him but he could not seem to force out any kind of objection. Somehow, when it was Hanzo explaining it, he felt like he could trust that what he was saying was true.

“I merely intended to lure you here,” Hanzo continued, a wry smirk gracing his lips, “what happened next would be up to you. Imagine my surprise when you simply asked for me to give you a purpose in life,” he tipped his head to look McCree in the eyes, “that lines up very well with what I had in mind, you see.”

“An' what exactly did you have in mind?” McCree asked, feeling the heat rising in his cheeks.

“A companion. The places I go are dangerous, and the things I do are even more so. It would be good to have somebody watching my back.”

“So what... like... a mercenary thing?” McCree did not like the sound of that.

“Not exactly. Something more than that. Your soul belongs to me now, after all. You're mine.”

“What?” McCree exclaimed, jerking back with surprise.

“Your soul,” Hanzo repeated calmly, “it's mine now.”

“I never agreed to that,” McCree replied stubbornly.

“But you did. You shook my hand. You lay with me... _intimately_.”

“So?”

“So?” Hanzo echoed, “you signed on the dotted line. I thought you would have done a little more research about how a deal with the Devil is made before you came looking for me.”

McCree flushed. He mumbled something about not having time to do so, scratching his beard absently.

“So what does this mean, then?” he asked, hesitant.

Hanzo smiled and extended a hand to him.

“It means we have places to see you could only begin to imagine, adventures to have that you could never dream of, and people to kill who have proven to be difficult even for me to slay. Are you in?”

McCree stared warily at his hand. Slowly, carefully, he placed his own hand out. Hanzo took it, and the two men disappeared from the bar, like one would expect of the spectral inhabitants of a ghost town, leaving only a faint glimmer of green and a whisp of stirred dust in their wake. The bar was quiet. The pool table lay in ruins, and two empty shot glasses sat abandoned and empty on the counter.

Quiet fell once again over Deadlock Gorge.

\--

Rumours work in funny ways. All it takes is for someone to see something, or hear something unusual, and our brains distort and weave falsehoods through the memory like a loom. Once, there had been a legend of the Devil of Deadlock Gorge – a fearsome terror of an immortal plane, a devious beast that could grant you wishes in exchange for tribute. Somewhere, somehow, something changed. The story changed. _Just one Devil_? The people scoffed. _No, it's two – a pair_. _A lone ranger with glowing red eyes and a serape that billows with no wind. He only ever has one bullet in the chamber, but he can kill a small army with a single spin of his revolver. While he does that, you don't even notice the oni behind him, eagle-eyed and poised, ready to rain a dozen arrows down on you with a single shot. If you're really unlucky,_ _especially_ _if you manage to land a shot on the undead cowboy, you'll hear a roar, and a pair of ghostly dragons will fall from the sky to devour you..._

But that's just a story told to scare children and to keep wayward travellers from crossing unsafe roads. A myth. Surely nothing more than a simple legend...

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's that! I would like to take a moment to thank every single person who has read and re-read this fic, and especially show my appreciation to anyone who left kudos or a comment! You guys have all made my day with every bit of feedback I've received, and this has become my most commented on fic ever by a HUGE margin! I hope you enjoyed the journey as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> If you would like more cool content, please check out my other stuff here:  
> [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/ladymermalaid)  
> [Tumblr](http://www.ladymermalaid.tumblr.com)  
> [Tumblr [NSFW Blog]](http://www.empressmermalaid.tumblr.com)


End file.
